You Dropped A Bomb On Me
by Xyliette
Summary: A/U. Crack!fic wherein Sydney's parents come to town for her birthday. Mark/Sydney.


A/N: For Kendel's birthday, months ago. Fail.

~-~-~-~-~-~  
You Dropped a Bomb On Me  
- The Gap Band  
~-~-~-~-~-~

"You look at me a lot you know," Sydney points out, swirling her fruity drink around its container. Joe's is particularly grim and empty and since his partner is missing Sydney just dives in. It's been so long since she's dated that she's almost forgot how to approach the situation, but she's confident as always.

"Wh-at?" Mark stammers, his glass slamming down on the counter of the bar, Joe glancing over at the ruckus.

"You look at me. A lot. If you have a question Dr. Sloan, just ask. I don't mind."

"I don't," Mark argues. He could swear he was just looking over her shoulder at the delicious blonde who just made her entrance.

"Here's the thing," Sydney begins, her speech well rehearsed. "I know it may be awkward for you, since Derek and I...but, feel free. I mean, I'm available. And looking."

"Forward," Mark mumbles.

"And you aren't?"

That's how it began.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Doctors S and S, how are things?" Sydney asks sliding up to Derek and Mark who are both hunched over the counter. They stare at each other, not know what has brought this on.

"Good," Derek answers politely as Mark rushes around trying to find an escape route.

Yes, they spent the night drinking. Yes, they spent the night talking. Yes, it made far more sense then than it does now.

"Dr. Heron," Mark grumbles, a light hand at the small of her back pulling her away from his best friend. "I-"

"You," Sydney sighs, her shoulders dropping. "I thought we had fun."

"We did," he agrees, looking at her defeated posture. "We had fun."

"Is it a crime Silly? To have fun again?"

"No," Mark shakes his head, thinking that some song lyrics are about to follow. "But-"

"You don't want fun with me," she nods. "I get it. Literally, a lot. I get that. But...it's...this is your loss. I'm an amazing woman."

"I'm sure you are," Mark concedes, pushing her further away from civilization.

"I make a mean soufflé and I'm an asset to any poker game. I'm not emotionally or mentally handicapped like most of the women you choose and I'm an excellent doctor. So....it's your loss."

Mark's mouth crashes into hers haphazardly, teeth bouncing, lips smashed as he tries to correct his hastiness. Then it slows, synchronizes, and he can't fathom why this hasn't been the woman he's been kissing for his entire life.

What can he say? Mark never enjoyed losing out on anything, even if it threatens his popularity level.

~-~-~-~-~-~

It is interesting, however, that the simple kiss propels a relationship the likes of which he never imagined. There's no dysfunction, no hatred, no lying. And it's more refreshing than dunking his head under the sink every morning trying to figure out where he went so wrong. She's a breath of much needed fresh air.

But Mark's never done holidays with girls (unless you count Addison, and he doesn't). Never done family gatherings (again, he doesn't think she matters in this capacity). And both of those things are about to be wrapped up into one unholy day, July 11th.

He's unofficially been in a stable, adult union for over three months now, but in that time nothing major has occurred. His birthday lands in the dead of winter and they just barely missed having to celebrate the Fourth of July because fireworks both had them working well into the morning hours.

_"Hiya," Sydney greets sleepily winding herself up in his arms, her head hitting the feathery pillow softly._

_"Hey," Mark mumbles, pulling her closer, relishing in the smell of her wild hair._

_"I'm sorry about tonight," Sydney apologizes, her pager upsetting their plan of watching the show out on her balcony with a picnic basket full of crackers and wine._

_"S'okay," Mark replies lightly kissing the top of her head. Frankly he liked it better this way, less of a chance for him to screw things up._

_"I'll make it up to you," she promises._

_"I like the sound of that."_

_July 11th though, a day that somehow Sydney managed to get out of working has him panicked. Her entire family- mother, brother, sisters, father in-law, grandparents, they will all be in town visiting, staying God knows where. He still has his name on file at the hotel, but she gave him a drawer weeks ago and neither one of them have looked back. Oddly enough, he thinks he may miss her if he has to spend the entire weekend cooped up in a lousy hotel bed instead of on her lumpy mattress (that he gripes about every other second)._

_"This is for you," Sydney offers, sliding the fourth drawer of her dresser open. "And there's some room in the closet if you want to hang up things."_

_"Are you asking me to move in?" Mark questions, untying his shoes and kicking them across the rug. They aren't the cleanest couple, and he's happy that the occasional shirt thrown on the floor doesn't send her into a hissy fit._

_"I'm saying that since you are here seven nights a week you may as well have a place to put your stuff. If you don't like it-"_

_"It's great," Mark smiles as she sits down next to him._

_"Wanna show me how great?" Sydney dares him, wriggling out of her shirt and shimming back across the comforter_.

It's just the only family he's ever done is Derek's and since he ended up screwing every female but Mrs. Shepherd he's afraid this may not go so well. And if it's not going to go well then she deserves something separate from his epic failure. A chance to celebrate, just the two of them.

Something that he can trust himself with.

~-~-~-~-~-~

It doesn't take much coaxing out of Dr. Bailey to give him Sydney Heron as his resident for the day, though she is awfully suspicious when his schedule is cleared off by noon.

It doesn't evade him, however, that it will be difficult to pull her away from her patients and agree to an afternoon of primping so that he can pick her up at 7:30 sharp, dressed in an impeccable tux, ready to wow her.

"Dr. Heron," Mark greets, stepping behind an empty curtain in the clinic where Sydney has sent herself when they were done with his only patient of the day.

"Dr. Sloan," Sydney giggles, a bounce in her step present for months. She'd be willing to bet that she's rather annoying to her co-workers, but she's never much cared for their opinions. They've never taken the time to understand what she's about, healing from the inside out. She dances up onto her tiptoes and kisses him lightly, the sensation never growing old.

"I want to take you out tonight," Mark declares. "For your birthday, before your birthday, okay?"

"But we still have a week-"

"Today is the only night off I have for a while."

"But my family-"

"I know," Mark shrugs coyly. His plan is going swimmingly, that is until the water wells into the corner of her eyes and she sniffles at her shoes. He's taken aback for a brief moment before instinct kicks in, telling him to rub her shoulder and gather her into a soothing hug. "Syd, don't cry."

"I wanted you to meet my family," Sydney moans pitifully. "It's important Mark."

"I will meet them..." he says softly, cursing himself. Apparently, he's not getting out of this one so easily.

"Ok," Sydney agrees trustingly, somehow managing a smile and sniffle in the same breath.

Mark looks to his pager for help, but finds it's useless, he'd rather be here anyway. Gathering tears on the corner of his sleeve, stroking her cheek reassuringly, trying to find a way to say how scared he is even when he never manages to work himself into it.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Three days later and Mark finds his plan going off without a hitch, that is unless you count Sydney's hurt feelings as a sort of glitch.

_"Did I do something?" Mark asks looking around at the perfectly still environment, a slow violin playing in the overly romantic atmosphere. It's unequivocally the most perfect thing he's ever planned and though he knows it may look cliché and thoughtless he's never put more effort into one single date than this, and he thinks she knows that. "Do you not like your steak?"_

_"No, it's great," Sydney answers vapidly, her finger nervously fiddling with the napkin on her lap._

_Mark takes it as it is, figuring it's a girl thing and slices his tender cut of meat delicately, sopping up the abundant red juice on his plate._

_"It's...I saw your schedule, in your office when I was cleaning it-"_

_"You cleaned my office?" Mark questions, nearly choking on his steak. He hasn't even bothered going in there in the last week because it's such a catastrophe of abandoned paperwork and broken writing utensils thrown on the ground._

_"It needed to be cleaned," Sydney acknowledges. Even she has limits. Besides a dirty workspace doesn't bode well for the doctor inhabiting it, and she wants Mark to do and be his best every day (also, she plans on moving herself in there so she doesn't have to deal with Miranda Bailey breathing down her throat.)_

_"True," Mark mutters to himself._

_"You work every single day that my family is in town, and I don't get to see them a lot, not as much as I want to, and I know we aren't a we and you have just sort of started squatting at my apartment and I don't mind at all and one day I think it would be great if we were a we and we could be living together somewhere where people live together as a we...and maybe we could get a pet fish or something that doesn't have to be fed or walked or something because we are not home a lot and I don't want to jump the gun-"_

_"Whoa-" Mark interrupts the rambling, hoping to give her time to inhale and exhale just once. Also, he thinks, they are definitely a we, just not a traditional we. They date and make dinner together and sleep on opposite sides of the bed some nights when they are angry. And she drives him up a wall with her incessant cheery singing in the morning, and he always loses the toothpaste cap down the sink drain (that has been broken and not fixed since he moved in). They simply aren't running through the halls and shoving it in people's faces (Derek and Meredith) and they are only insanely overly affectionate when no one they know and can therefore offend is in the immediate vicinity._

_They are a we in the ways that count, he decides._

_"...I know I said it was okay- but it's not. It's really, really, really not Mark. I told them all about you and my dad-"_

_"Your father?"_

_"He's an amazing..."_

_Mark stopped listening about there, before she started winding through stories about the fishing trips he took his only little girl on. Before the recounting of the tree house he built for her, before she could say that he hangs her moon and adjusts the stars in her sky._

_He'll never be that man._

_But suddenly reaching for his drink, he realizes that he'd like to be. He'd like to build a fort up in a tree for a little boy with Syd's wild hair and his eyes. He'd like to take his little girl out pony shopping before she can even walk._

_He wants that future. More prudently, he finally sees a future, and it's with this crazy loon of a woman._

But hurting the people closest to him is just par for the course he figures and silently leers at Dr. Stevens who is busy scribbling something or another down. Mark tries on his most charming face and strides over confidently.

"Dr. Stevens."

"I'm not getting your coffee, dry cleaning, or having your car waxed. I'm busy. With patients. Real people."

"Cranky too," Mark teases. "I need a favor."

"I remember saying no already," Izzie tells him without looking up.

"It's not for me, it's...for Dr. Heron."

"Why would I help that woman?" Izzie asks quickly, thinking back over her torturous therapy sessions.

"Fine, it's for me," Mark drops his voice. "No one knows this...but Dr. Heron- Sydney and I...we're kind of a thing. And her birthday is Friday, and I want to do something without her finding out, and she's good Stevens. She's the kid that figured out every Christmas present under the tree without unwrapping them...so I need help."

"Fine," Izzie huffs.

"Thank God," Mark sighs loudly. He didn't know where to go if this didn't work. "Karev says that you really like holidays-"

"I do," Izzie confirms, her pen toppling onto the counter in defeat.

"I need a party. At Joe's. Friday during lunch. And I need everyone here to come."

Izzie laughs loudly before clearing her throat and settling her eyes downward. "You're kidding right?"

"No," Mark answers obliviously.

"What kind of a budget do I have?"

Mark shrugs before reaching into his scrubs and pulling out his wallet. Quickly, he snatches all of the cash out of the leather and forces it into her hand. "Let me know when you need more."

Despite the fact that she has to gather a group of her peers for a party they definitely don't want to be attending, Izzie can feel her mood lifting with the weight of the money in her fist. It won't be all bad, and she has some creative license. "I need you to get me off of Bailey's service-"

"Done. You're with me for the next four days."

"Perfect," Izzie smiles. "Oh!" she calls out as he begins to walk away, "It's not a secret Dr. Sloan, everyone knows about you and Sydney...except Dr. Shepherd, not that we haven't tried."

"Everyone knows but Dr. Shepherd...what?" Derek asks, pulling a loose scrub cap from his head.

"Nothing," Mark whistles, pointing to the OR board and dashing away.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Izzie settled on bright, obnoxious colors, because all in all it seemed fitting. And Joe was not impressed that she wanted to commandeer a majority of his bar while he was trying to serve other customers but eventually he gave in, and now Walter is busy helping her string up vibrant pink and purple streamers, something out of a six year old's dreams.

Izzie figures it's about right for Sydney. She even went out and got hats, with the itchy elastic, and at the very least it will be hilarious seeing everyone in their stupid little pointy cones. Getting them to show up though, it was probably the most difficult.

_"Dr. Shepherd," Izzie smiles sweetly._

_"Stevens, I'm busy-"_

_"I was hoping to have lunch with you Friday, I'm really interested in your field and I thought it would be nice to get an insider's point of view."_

_"Oh," Derek runs a few fingers through his hair, flattered as always. "I think I could do that."_

_"Great," Izzie grins, it's like taking candy from babies. "Let's say noon at Joe's."_

But in the long run Derek, besides Meredith who felt guilt immediately, was probably the easiest person to manipulate.

_"Come on Cristina!" Izzie begs._

_"I can't drink if I'm working and I will need to be drinking. No," Cristina declares, tapping her pen on the counter, waiting for Izzie to retreat._

_"I'll pay you," Izzie offers._

_"In," Cristina mumbles. She never turns down good money._

"All set," Izzie announces her progress as Dr. Sloan enters the bar, forty minutes early.

"I invited her parents," Mark breathes, trying not to hurl onto the tabletops.

"Oh-okay," Izzie replies. "Well it's just Meredith, Alex, Cristina, George, Derek, Bailey, Chief, and some of the nurses and guys from radiology. No biggie."

"Did you pick up the present from my office?" Mark asks, nervously pulling on the tie that is trying to suffocate him.

"Over there," Izzie points, almost falling out of her perch, helium balloons scattering over the ceiling as she accidentally lets go.

If only she had a face painting clown, things would be complete.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"I can't believe you kept this from me," Derek sneers, trying to hide his laughter behind his water glass. "Sydney. Sydney Heron-"

"Shut up," Mark mumbles under his breath. His birthday girl is about to show up any minute and who he can only assume is her father is staring him down across the room. His original plan of upsetting her repeatedly is looking better and better at this point.

"This is pathetic," Derek adds quickly, turning his face into a bright smile as the bell jingles on the door and they all scream "Surprise!" in their best versions of genuine, and excited tones.

Sydney squeals, literally, and then wraps herself up in Mark's arms in thanks. "I should have known," Sydney smiles. "I knew you weren't going to work all week."

Mark still does work all week though, but it can wait, because she's so happy she's bouncing over the floor greeting all the people who can normally barely stand her. Then she sees her family and flies over to them, dragging Mark along with her. Her happiness negates his poor decisions, and he decides then and there, even shaking Mr. Heron's hand that everything is going to be worth the look on her face at this very moment.

He's fallen.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Oh my! Thank you!" Sydney yells, everyone gathered around her present opening like she is seven and just got the newest Barbie. Instead it's a Chia Cat from Alex that came without the box so Mark assumes he found it somewhere in Meredith's house and dropped it into the brown paper bag Syd just ripped into. "Mark look!"

"I see," Mark nods, rolling his eyes at Karev, before he shuffles his present forward. He told Izzie exactly what to get, but as she starts shredding through glittery tissue paper he realizes a horrible mistake has been made.

The handcuffs fall onto the table with a clink, and even the purple feathers on them do nothing to stop the gaping mouthes covering the room, Sydney's father clearing his throat in disapproval. But she keeps digging, uncovering edible body paint and novelty condoms, and Mark is mortified.

His real present, the customized scrub caps with orange swirls and aqua squares, must be at home. And his "at home" present is now here, displayed for everyone to see. Derek is snickering in the back of the group as Meredith punches his arm, and Izzie quickly swoops in, pushing everything back into the bag, and announcing that it's time to cut the cake.

No one in her family talks to him for the rest of the party. He's always known surprise parties were horrible plans.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"I'm sorry," Mark starts, the lock barely twisting in its hold before Sydney appears. "I'm so, so sorry. That was for later, and this was what was supposed to be there. I grabbed the wrong one this morning. Look!" Mark urges, panicked, ripping the wrapping paper off of the scrub caps himself and hanging them up by their strings.

"They're nice," Sydney sighs.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know," Sydney concedes. Doesn't mean she wishes it could have been a little different in front of her grandmother for God's sake. And the cautionary tales that her mother told for the rest of the day have grated on her last nerve. She wants a bubble bath, a drink, and to get her Chia kitten in water so it will start growing its coat.

"Have I mentioned I'm sorry?" Mark squeaks, dropping the present in resignation.

"You have," Sydney affirms, "But I think you're going to have to show me how sorry you are." When he nods sadly she laughs, bringing the paper bag of discussion out from behind her back.

"Oh-"

"First," Sydney stops him, her hand in the air. "We water my Chia. Then the handcuffs."

And even though her priorities are sketchy at best, and even though she calls him nicknames that rhyme with Mark and take more than one breath to complete, he thinks he's never been happier.

He's still a screw up, but at least he's found someone who can deal with it.

"Fuck, I love you," Mark blurts out, as she carefully unwraps her presents.

The garden kitten tumbles from her hands, taking a backseat to the body paint, as she launches herself at him.

"I love you too," she confides later, hands secured to the bedposts, Mark's head between her legs.

He pretends he doesn't hear, hoping she'll say it again when they are in less compromising positions. He's had too many fake declarations of love made in the past while in the middle of sex, he wants better for this than that.

Two hours later he gets his wish.

~-~-~-~-~-~


End file.
